#Fictober Day 29
“At least it can’t get any worse.”
(VoodooKing!T’Challa)
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: Violence, death, examples of racism
A/N: Giving you some Get Out style themes here. This was inspired by Stephen King’s ‘Thinner’ a lil bit too.
Summertime opens the Earth up to warmth, sunshine, and the beauty of nature awakening with full colors and life. Along with such good sights, people travel far and wide to enjoy them at their peak abroad. This is usually a perk for the traveler but for the people of their desired destination, it’s kind of a mixed bag.
T’Challa looked off into the golden plains of Wakanda with burdens on his heart. Tourists would be entering parts of the land to shop and observe the ‘third world’ experience. Of course, more robust areas of Wakanda’s city would still remain hidden, but the white people seemed to enjoy the goats and huts just as much.
“T’Challa, are you sulking again?” Niyilo sat next to him, tossing her locs over her shoulder .
He shrugs. “A little. It’s not a crime.” He mutters under his breath, chewing on some seeds.
Niyilo bumps his shoulder. “Ahh, come on then! This isn’t our first rodeo! The first group of tourists were ok enough.”
“Yes, their trash was a welcome goodbye present, and all of the broken furniture we had to fix. The reckless, good for nothing-”
Niyilo kisses her teeth. “What do you expect? People do not go away to be on their best behavior, this is just the business we are in. You just make sure the alcohol is flowing so I can bring the suckers in for a reading and I can finally get Toku that hoverbike he has been wanting forever!”
T’Challa nods half-heartedly. “Yes, things are replaceable. At least it can’t get any worse.” He made his way to the winery to fill some gallon glass bottles with drink from thefermenting barrels. The sun was high as noon came, a sticky humidity settled in the air as he took a handkerchief and wiped his bow and neck dry.
Toku runs up through the crowds of Wakandans scuffling around their little village excitedly. “T’Challa! Do you see it! The boat, it’s coming!” His little voice was adorably high pitched as he pointed in the direction of the boat.
It was hard to miss as it pulled towards Wakanda’s shores. The people they get are visitors from a multi-country tour of African nations and the way to Wakanda is across a river separating them from their previous location.
“Ahh, I see it. Make sure you cleaned up your mother’s area in time for them to be here. They won’t give treats to a lazy boy.” T’Challa warned with a finger wag. Toku beamed as he ran back to Niyilo’s hut to do as he was told. Toku loved the tourists because they would see his face and just melt at his cuteness, buying him sweets or giving him a coin to keep. T’Challa found it to be humiliating and degrading, but he let it slide since they were showing some level of kindness.
When the boat docked, its passengers spilled out, chattering with phones out and bags in hand. Men awaited them to help if needed to make their way to their dwelling areas. Polite thank yous were given, some money exchanged as the white people came into town, reddened by the sun but smiling nonetheless.
T’Challa sees Toku darting out towards the tourists with flowers in hand as a welcome gift.
“Wamkelekile!” He said happily, as some women awed at his kindness, patting his head and pinching his cheeks. One woman with her husband reached into her purse, appearing ready to give him something.
“Oh please, Carol! Haven’t you spent enough money on this trip already that you have to give it away to these island people!” The man bristles looking at Toku with disgust.
She looks at her husband pleading. “Oh John! Could you be more compassionate! He is just a child, and we are not on an island!” she exclaimed, handing a small token in Toku’s hand.
“Enkosi!” He says with a bow, running away happily to T’Challa.
“See, you just made that kid a millionaire, I bet. Should’ve gave the mongrel a puka shell or something. This place is a damn poverty palace.” He takes his hat off to wipe his bald spot of sweat.
Toku shows T’Challa the useless American 25 cent piece in his hand, talking about the nice lady who gave it to him.
“What about the man, was he kind to you?” T’Challa asked, already knowing the answer.
Toku just nods. “He didn’t want me to have it but his wife did anyway. He’ll come around once he sees how good we are!”
T’Challa runs the boys head before sending him off to do chores. He had a bad feeling about the man called John, but took solace in the fact that their stay would only be one day according to schedule.
When night fell, The band was like on drums, cymbals, and guitars playing lively sounds of the region to entertain the guests. Performers in traditional garb stepped and moved to the beats as the crowd clapped for them, joining when the spirits flowing in their glasses hit their mind. T’Challa watched the crowd, filling people’s glasses when they looked low so their moods stayed high and wallets open.
“Hey, c’mere with that sweet ass, baby!”
T’Challa looked to the right of him to see the man called John sitting front row and wide legged reaching for the skirt of one woman performing. She smiled and tried to dance away from him but with the choreography, that was proving difficult. His wife sat behind him, nursing a drink and looking sick.
“John, stop embarrassing me! They are not here for that!” She scolds him quietly.
He looks back at her like she was a stranger. “Maybe you should get up here and learn a thing or two about this, huh? Keep your man happy the way the natives do! That’s why we our forefathers couldn’t leave them alone!”
T’Challa watches as Carol scoffs and walks away from him as that was the last straw. At some point finding her way back to her hut, Niyilo intercepts her.
“Miss? Miss? Are you alright? You are looking so blue,”
Carol sighs, coming up to Niyilo. “It’s just...my asshole of a husband is bringing me down and I apologize on his behalf everywhere we go, but I’m sick of it!”
Niyilo nods knowingly. “I see, do you mind if I….” She holds her hands out, bracelets jingling.
Carol nods giving her hands to Niyilo who examines her palms. “Mmm, I see…”
Carol looks at them like a book. “What, what do you see?”
Niyilo lets them go and shrugs. “Many things, some good...some bad. But I wouldn’t stress too much about it. Not until you get back to your home anyway.”
Carol puts her hands together pleading. “Could you tell me what you saw? I could use any help I can get, and I can tell this is important!”
Niyilo turns, her gold and purple skirt flying up and following her along the ground. “If you would like a session with me, it will cost you, but I am afraid I am closed for the evening.”
Carol digs around in her purse. “Please, I’ll give you extra, just this one fortune telling and I’m out of your hair. Is this enough?”
Niyilo takes the loose Wakandan bills counting up the amount being three times her asking price. “This will work, follow me.”
Niyilo leads Carol into her hut to sit at a table draped in a dark cloth. As they sit, Niyilo takes a velvet bag and dumps its contents of feathers, bones, vibranium pieces and leaves on the table.
“Oh, you don’t have a ball or cards?” Carol asks nervously.
Niyilo ignores her question as she waves her hands above the materials, breathing in deeply and muttering to herself.
“I use this to confirm my first impressions of clients, and it appears I was a little off…” Niyilo says, closing her eyes tightly in concentration.
“Oh! Am I better off than you thought?”
“No, worse….that husband of yours is so evil. You excuse his behavior to stay with him…”
Carol bristles at her comment. “Well, look, he’s a good guy for the most part. He always gives some donation to the Salvation army on his taxes-”
“Silence! He is ill, his heart blackened, growing more so by each passing day. If you don’t want to face his same fate, you must get rid of him.”
“How? I can’t divorce him, he wouldn’t leave me with a dime, especially since we don’t have kids.”
Niyilo hold a finger up. “The universe can right wrongs, though it may take longer.” Her eyes snap open and she jumps up to standing. “Bast!”
Carol looks at her confused as she turns to see John stomping towards them. “Carol! I didn’t think I’d have to watch over you like a child, yet here you re wandering off!” Carol leaves the hut, pressing her husband to go away.
T’Challa has left his post at the party to have a quick smoke of the Earth’s finest when he sees Toku playing from a distance.
“Toku! What are you doing, boy? Why aren’t you in bed?”
Toku runs up to T’Challa. “I couldn’t sleep, and neither could the fireflies! I wanted to catch them!”
T’Challa puts out his roach, standing up. “Fireflies do not have bedtimes, you do. Let’s go back to your mother’s.”
Heading back to Niyilo, T’Challa hears multiple voices yelling. It was hard to see in the dark, but once he could he broke into a sprint. John was hunched over Niyilo, arm flying up and down towards the ground where Niyilo laid still.
“Give me my money, you black witch!” John sputtered drunkenly as Carol whimpered helplessly.
T’Challa tackles John to the ground, holding him down. “What is the meaning of this, huh? You attacking a woman, for what?!”
John scoffs. “That ‘woman’ is a thief. Couple that with my wife being an idiot and I’m out $500 bucks.
“Mama!” Toku says sorrowfully.
T’Challa looks behind him to see Toku kneeling by his mother, moving her arm to wake her, tears soaking his cheeks. T’Challa gets up to look over his friend, but can barely recognize her face bruised and bloodied.
T’Challa picks her up and takes her inside, praying he wasn’t too late. John gets up dusting himself off. “Serves her right. I suspect you can get my money back then, huh puka?” John asks Toku who is bawling.
T’Challa comes out of the hut pulling Toku behind him. “You are sick, a devil incarnate. Keep away from here!”
John laughs. “The heathen telling me about what is righteous in the world! That is something special!”
“John, let’s go!” Carol insists.
“I’m going back to the party. You go home, I mean it! I don’t wanna see you until the boat comes back!” John looks back to T’Challa, arms wide. “I expect my money on my pillow next to a mint, man.”
As he strolls away. T’Challa stomps back into the hut, looking pitifully at Niyilo. “Toku, your mother will be ok, I promise. Niyilo, can you hear me?”
Toku puts a pillow under his mother’s head as T’Challa pats her hand to wake her. Suddenly she awakes coughing.
“Bast! Niyilo! You are still with us! Tell me what to do, so you have something here for your injuries.”
Her head moves slowly side to side. “Don’t call anyone….stay here.”
T’Challa nods. “Anything. Tell me what you need.”
Her one good eye opens as she looks to T’Challa. “I need you for a favor. I will die soon…”
T’Challa looks quickly to Toku and back. “Don’t be nonsensical. We will get a doctor to see you. Toku, go-”
“Don’t!” Her voice rang clearly that moment. “I said stay. T’Challa, brag the clear bottle on the bottom shelf behind you.”
T’Challa does so, bringing it back an opening it as Niyilo continues. “Toku, you will have to be a big boy now, ok? I want you to listen to T’Challa, whatever he says.” Toku nods, wiping his tears.
“T’Challa, this is my last ask of you. I will drink of this bottle, as will you. You will repeat my words three times so that you can carry out my final request.”
T’Challa nods. “Anything, whatever you need.”
Niyilo smiles weakly as T’Challa tips her head forward to drink from the bottle, and he follows. Niyilo says some words that he remembers as a nursery rhyme of evil when he was a boy, with some additional words. He never knew this was a spell, for what would soon be revealed. He felt his spirit shake within him as his head snapped backward violently, his vision went black.
---
John walks to the party surveying his hand, cursing Niyilo’s face for bruising his knuckles. He sits at a table, snapping his fingers to be served.
As a glass is filled and handed to him, John takes it, but in process the server grabs his arm tightly. John looks up to see a man dressed in a vest, bare chested, tattered pants and sandals, holding an elaborately engraved walking stick adorned with feathers and bone.
The man bends down face to face to John. His grey eyes had dark circles around them as his teeth necklace dangled between them. “John Williams, you have the nerve to still remain on these grounds, drinking our fairest grain alcohol?”
John swallows hard. “Who do you think-”
He pulls him John up to standing by his shirt one handed. “You come here and make a mockery of our culture, make perverse remarks, and abuse us? We will not have it.”
John squirms. “I will have the military here to destroy this whole outhouse you call a country if you don’t unhand me buddy!”
He drops John to the ground. “You cannot understand because you have not seen, you do not know. Tsk.” John coughs, bringing himself to his feet to give the voodoo man a piece of his mind, but he had disappeared in thin air.
John plops on his chair, heartbeat cracking his chest bone from this excitement before taking a swig from his glass. He spits it out.
“Gah! That literally tastes like piss. Waitress!”
A woman comes to him asking how things are. “Can you fill this with some rum and coke, I don’t know what this shit is.”
The woman cocks her head to the side in confusion. “I don’t understand…”
John has had enough of this and stands in her face. “I said I want a DRINK! A proper one, not this horseshit that voodoo creep came and poured, and ice for my hand while you’re at it, toots!” He holds his fist up to her face.
“Aye! Man, what’s your problem?” A male worker comes to the waitresses aid.
“Oh please MON, keep your distance. This doesn’t include you.”
The male worker talks to his co-worker. “Where is he from, I thought they were all American.”
John fumes. “I AM AN AMERICAN! How dare all of you, take me to the embassy. This is beyond what you people can help me with now.”
The man talks slowly in English. “Where are you from? Do you have ID? Or someone with you who speaks English?”
John stammers incredulously. “I am speaking English! Are you too dumb to understand! I can hear you clearly!” John puts a hand on the guys shoulder who shoves it away. John pushes him back, causing a scuffle. Other workers see this and break them up, telling John to leave.
“Oh, shut up! I’m going! When that boat comes back, I’ll be the first on on it!” John says staggering away.
John decides to walk back to his hut to call it a night but gets lost along the way. Peering through the trees, he sees a tall dark figure, looking to be carrying a stick.
“You! You, get back here! Tell me what the hell is going on!” John tries to run toward it, but he’s gone as soon as he appeared. John continues on until he sees lights in the distance to indicate civilization again.
The snap of a twig takes John’s attention as he looks back to find two glowing eyes peering at him in the trees. A low growl begins to rattles his bones as he makes a feeble attempt to run away. A branch smacks him in the face, causing him to fall into a large puddle of muck. The animal’s steps can be heard clearly as he staggers to stand up and run out of the forested area. John’s body was not used to this much activity as he heaved, chest burning as he tried to catch his breath, he makes it to the row of residential huts. He wipes his face, regretting it as he forgot about the muck he fell in coated his hands. He still couldn’t tell what hut was his so he knocked on a door to request help. He heard people inside but they didn’t come to the door. He yelled out for help, but still none arrived. John was exhausted, limping as his ankle got twisted during the run, he sees a child walking up the street ahead of him.
“Hey, hey kid! Help me out will ya! Which hut am I supposed to be in.”
The child turns around, appearing startled and begins to run.
“Wait! Come on, I won’t hurt ya! Give me a break, I’ve had a long night!” John limped at a light jog as he caught up to the boy knocking on a door.
The door opens as the boy runs up hugging Carol. “My God, Toku! What are you doing here, you should be home taking care of your mother.”
Toku turns around to point at a muddy and batter John. “Carol, thank God. Listen, you gotta-”
Carol holds Toku tighter stepping backwards. “Who are you, what do you want?”
John remember his appearances and tries to wipe the dried mud off him. “Carol it’s me, John. Don’t be scared honey, you know how I get sometimes.”
Carol puts Toku behind her. “Listen, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but you stay away from me, ok?”
John is almost inside now, becoming impatient. “Carol! Dammit, quit acting crazy-”
Carol screams pushing him out, making him fall on his back. Other neighbors come out of their huts, clambering around to survey the commotion.
John gets up slower than ever, looking around the crowd. “What is your problem? Why is everyone treating me like some other? Can’t anyone help me?”
The face of the crowd peered at him horrified, some running back inside their huts.
“No! No! I need some assistance, dammit. That’s it! What kind of people are you, I earned my way on this trip just like you. Carol!” He walks back to her who cowers against the hut. “You’re starting a damn scene, acting so stupid!”
BANG!
A shot rings out, startling the crowd as a hunter appears, walking towards John who has crumbled to his knees.
The crowd questioned what was that? What did it want? The hunter assured the crowd that everything was under control as John laid dying. Calmly, everyone walked into their homes.
The hunter kneeled, looking over the gaping hole in John’s chest.
Spitting up blood John says, “The hell is wrong with you? How could you shoot me? I didn’t hurt anyone and you shot me like an animal.”
The hunter looked at him with his grey eyes. “You’re a liar, John.”
John coughs some more. “You understand me? No one else could! Please, is there help on the way.”
The hunter become clouded in a static haze as his gear turns into the vest and stick carrying fellow he ran into before. “John, you have not lived a fulfilling life. Leaving many people broken and worse for meeting you.”
John couldn’t believe his eyes. “You bastard! And that witch, is she behind this? She has a hex on me?!”
He kisses his teeth. “Worse. You are just beginning to feel the wrath of having killed a voodoo queen in cold blood. That was your wife’s reading, that she paid for. But you control her with an iron fist so much, that reason is foreign to you.”
John is coming in and out of consciousness as he lay dying. The voodoo man stands. “You were shot dead like the animal you portray yourself as. You will die here, your body becoming shell of an unknown creature since foreign things anger you so. Your soul will not rest, being crushed, you will feel your bones break freshly every moment of your eternal damnation to equate the pulverizing nature you thrust on others without regard to their humanity.”
John tries to talk but chokes on his blood.
“As for Carol, she will believe you to be missing, never seen again and eventually declared dead. Your assets are hers and she will finally begin to heal from your ways and serve communities that you hated so much.” Kneeling next to John, he whispers in his ear, “And there are no refunds.”
As soon as John gave his last passing breath, the voodoo man convulsed, crumpling to the floor. Toku ran out of Carol’s hut looking over him.
“T’Challa! Are you ok?”
T’Challa sits up rubbing his head. “I’ve been better, but I’ll live. You?”
Toku runs up to him, hugging him tightly. T’Challa stands up with him in his arms, looking at the rotting corpse of some animal sitting before him.
“God, what is that?” Carol looks at it disgusted.
“I’m not sure, but I will get someone to retrieve it.” T’Challa says, taking Toku away.
“Sir! If you see my husband, just steer clear. I’m sorry for his behavior today, I will cover any bills the fortune teller has to recover. It’s not enough, I know, but it’s the least I can do.”
T’Challa looks back at her blankly. “You can see me later about that, sure. And I won’t want to be where your husband is if you paid me.”
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